Tricky EXE
by Kaze Takashi
Summary: A MegaMan Battle Network FanFic. Rated T for language and some blood.
1. Chapters 1 through 3

**Chapter O****ne:**

**It's A Clown?**

"You, my well paying client, are an insane man."

The seventeen year old boy leaned forward and slammed his briefcase shut. His dark brown bangs fell over his eyes, so no one could see that while his mouth was frowning, his eyes betrayed his glee.

'_One thousand dollars, and one third of the profits too! I've struck gold, even if this dude is insane.'_

Indeed, the man truly was strange. Enough that even people in cars would turn their heads just to look at him. A bright yellow cloak concealed his body, and matched the equally strange cat mask that covered his face. He wore a black beanie in which his hair was drawn up in, and a green dog mask covered the back of his face. He wore purple rain boots to cover his feet. The strange man was obviously more than a little paranoid that someone would recognize him.

"So, we understand the conditions?" The crazy man asked for a fourth time. The boy had replied the same the last three times, and was now beginning to wonder if this job was worth it.

"Yes," The brown haired boy replied and glanced down at the list he had made.

**Ultimate Nuisance Prog:**

**-Clown-like Design; Simple**

**-Improbability Drive**

**-Vocal Program-No Language Prog**

**-Automatic Multiplication**

**-Adaptable**

**-Blood Simulation**

"It _should_ be easy, except for the last two parts. Adaptability will take maybe three days, but a blood simulation? That'll take a while. I'll have to calculate force to show how far it flies, type of impact, and ton of other stuff that the writer can't think of." "But don't you undershtand?!" The crazy man replied, an accent growing as his rage increased, "You geht two thousand dollahs, ahd a thirt of the profits!" The crazy man was practically screaming now. The programmer sighed as he and replied indifferently "Ya, I heard it the first time. How _are_ you planning to make money anyway?" "It doesn't matter. Just know that it will be big, possibly millions of dollars."

The programmer's mouth literally dropped open. _'A third of a million dollars… I could… Hell, I don't care what I could do! I GET A THIRD OF A MILLION DOLLARS!'_

"Well then, I believe we have come to an agreement. I create this program for you and you give me a third of the profits, plus one thousand dollars." "Yes…" The crazy old man seemed to be brooding over something, so the programmer decided to make his exit.

'_A third of a million dollars. Not to shabby for a budding programmer.'_

**Chapter Two:**

**Why Did I Choose This Job Again?**

'_Damn, a third of a million dollars is kinda underpriced…'_

The programmer saved the code, one week's work.

Save Tricky as EXE file?

Yes Cancel

Barely able to keep his eyes open he glanced at the clock. Three-thirty A.M… He clicked yes and was again prompted:

Save Tricky.EXE to:

He flipped his computer the bird as he put C:\Users\Jack\Desktop into the subject bar.

Before exiting however the programmer began to reviewed his work one last time.

/FileName: 'Tricky'

'_Damn, I'm tired…'_

/Code:

-/Mult.Tricky: '2'

Before the even managed to read the first part though, Jack fell asleep where he sat, his head landing on the keyboard.

…

"Gwah…" _'Where am I? Who am I?' _ "Caswagonama…" _'I… I am…' _ "Mishratza!""

Just then the desktop prog floated up. "Welcome," it said in the monotone so easily associated with robots and early programs. "I have never seen you before, and my scans indicate that you do not have the passcode. I will have to ask you to leave."

"Gaarashin." _'Damn, you've said one sentence and you're already annoying me.' _With that simple thought something fell out of nowhere and landed on the program. _'A giant marshmallow? What is this?'_

The next second he felt his data being ripped apart. It felt like he was sitting on a bed of needles that had been split in half and the two sides where constantly moving away from each other. The data then reformed, and he turned his head. He saw… a clown. It's skin was a sickly green and he had two tufts of curly red hair sticking out of the sides of his head with a bald spot in the middle; the usual clown hairdo. It had a welder's mask on, and its body was nothing but a gray lump. He had no arms, and only rough spheres for hands. For some reason, he knew that behind that welder's mask the face was only a cross like the one manga artist's use for early sketches, only the cross didn't go all the way around. _'Who am I…' _The thought wasn't his. It had come from the clown. He looked down at his hands… his body. It was the clowns… only the clown was right there. _'Improbable…' _He thought, and then a voice flooded his- their minds.

"Improbability Drive," a cool female voice said. "Program; thought/emotion and/or voice activated. Causes a completely random event based on what is happening during the current situation. When unable to draw data from surroundings then something previously recorded happens.

"Swah…" _'Sounds annoying… tricky to master.'_

"Tricky," the voice said as it invaded his mind again. "Program; yourself."

"Tra…Tri…Tric-" The clown was cut short as he was ripped apart again. As he was being duplicated the security program decided that this would be a good time to step in. Tricky was locked in the quarantine zone, but continued to duplicate. _'Four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two… What happens when the chest is full?'_

**Chapter Three: **

**In Over Your Head**

Jack was startled awake by a loud beeping noise coming from his computer. "Gah, what the hell now?!" He shouted, cranky due to his sudden wakening. 'Quarantine Zone full. Quarantine Zone full,' the programmer's computer shouted at him.

As it said that the

comp

uter sta

rted t

o laaaaaggggg…..

Due to the fact that the programmer's homepage was filled with Trickys.

He realized that he must have landed on the F6 key, his shortcut for 'Run Program.'

He quickly got to work typing, activating his computer's security, but it started beeping at him. The hard drive was at it's limit. He jacked his Navi in, hoping that the Navi could clear a good bit before of it before it multiplied, so he could manually remove them during the delagged period.

"... That's a helluva lotta clowns…." The Navi said. He rolled out of the way as a giant marshmallow almost squished him. The now angry Navi whipped around, a scythe suddenly in his hand, and slashed at the clown charging at him. It made a clean cut, and the clown's head was rolling on the floor. The Navi whipped some blood off his visor and turned to face the onslaught.

He drew back his scythe and then slammed it into the ground full force. A fissure appeared; it was not wide enough to fall through, only about an inch wide. Nothing happened for a moment, but then everything within five feet of it was impaled through the chest by an invisible force. The Navi's grin became a grimace however as something made contact with the back of his head. He fell to the ground and dropped his scythe. One of the clowns was there, this one wielding a stop sign with an exclamation point on it.

As Tricky (this one was the original) went in for the kill, a patch of spikes grew out of the Navi's back, impaling the clown. The Navi slowly got to his feet. "How do you like my ability? I call it the Organic Blade," The Navi said as the spikes shrunk back into non-existence. Another Tricky copy lunged at the Navi, only to be impaled through the face by the two foot long spike that had temporarily replaced his arm. Blood splattered on his visor again, but this time he purposely smeared it, giving his vision a red haze. He liked it that way. It fed his bloodlust. He slowly bent down and picked up his scythe.

"Raith," The programmer said, "you have three minutes. You have to clear about half these clowns so that I can get rid of the rest." "Got it," the Navi replied. The cloaked Navi slashed is arm (now an evil looking scimitar) at a clown that had been charging at him, slicing it clean in half. He buried the scythe in the clown's upper body and began using his scythe with the body on the end as a blunt weapon.

'_Damn,'_ the Navi thought to himself, _'This is taking to long... I didn't want to do that but…' _

The Navi


	2. Chapter 4: Endgame

Sorry about leaving the last chapter mid-sentence. I coulda sworn I got rid of that... Anyway, I edited that sentence out so it doesn't really matter.

* * *

Hey! Sorry about the length again, but I completely forgot about this for a while and wanted to get chapter four out ASAP in case this story had a midget fanbase. XD Just under five-hundred words, but I promise that the next chapters will be equal length, but will come out much more often! (As in like one chapter a week)

* * *

"I guess this is endgame…" The Navi said to no-one in particular.

"Over-Drive, set: Use one-half power." All the Trickys lunged at him, but it was if they were in slow motion. "Hey, you ready?" The Navi said it slowly, since if he had said it normally the clowns would have heard him speaking much faster than usual.

He flung the body off his scythe, slamming it into one of the clown's forehead. He drew flourished his scythe.

-Three minutes later-

The Navi surveyed the carnage around him. Bodies, some with there heads missing, all with major slash and stab wounds lay around him. Just one left. Across from him, Tricky was there. Even though the clown had duplicated again, those hadn't been much of a problem. The downside was that he had only one-third of his Over-Drive power left. Part of his scythe's blade had snapped off, and cracks ran through it. It didn't have much endurance left, and he needed to save at least part of it. He sent his scythe back to the PET, even if using Organic Blade consumed Over-Drive power.

"Let's go, clown."

The programmer sat back, watching the battle. He would let the battle continue until the clown didn't have much HP left. 'This is entertaining…'

"You first," The Navi said. Only a fool would choose to strike _this_ first.

Tricky lunged out, a downward slash coming from the stop sign aiming for Raith's head. The Navi smiled, and in one fluid motion he slashed off the end of the stop sign and smashed it on the clown's head. "ASAMRUGHUA!!" The enraged clown shouted. The stop sign reformed in his hand, and suddenly a inch-wide fissure appeared under the scythe wielding Navi. "Oh, f-" The Navi was cut off as an invisible blade impaled him through the chest. He was slowly raised into the air as the clown walked forward. 'This Improbablity Drive thing is easier to master than I thought it would be…'

A spike raced out of Raith's chest, and his scythe fell to the ground. "Hehe… I've won." The Navi said, pain lacing his voice with a slur. The spike went into the clown's neck, and blood spewed all over the still raised Navi. Another spike jutted out of Raith's shoulder, slamming into Tricky's chest. Another spike from shoulder to stomach, and a final spike from Raith's stomach through the clown's head.

"Heh… It's over." The Navi jacked out, leaving the clown laying in a pool of blood. "Jack, have I ever told you how much I hate you?" The Navi said once it was back in his PET. The 'Op gave a peace sign and a guilty smile. "Hey! Look on the bright side," he said as he transported Tricky to a disc. "We get a shitload of money! I promise I'll get you some good chips and a power up!" The Navi sighed. "Fine…"


End file.
